The Old Curiosity Shop / Лавка древностей. Чарльз Диккенс
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the few articles of dress “never again! Never again.”
“She’s very sensitive,” said Quilp, looking after her. “Very sensitive; that’s a pity. The bed is just my size. I think I shall make it my little room.”
The dwarf walked in and threw himself on his back upon the child’s bed with his pipe in his mouth. Mr. Brass applauded this picture very much.
11
At length, the crisis of the old man’s disorder was past, and he began to recover. By very slow and feeble degrees his consciousness came back; but the mind was weakened and its functions were impaired. He sat, for hours together, with Nell’s small hand in his, playing with the fingers.
He was sitting in his easy-chair one day, and Nell upon a stool beside him, when a man outside knocked.
“Yes,” the old man said without emotion, “it is Quilp. Quilp is master there. Come in, of course.”
And so he did.
“I’m glad to see you well again at last, neighbour,” said the dwarf, sitting down opposite to him. “You’re quite strong now?”
“Yes,” said the old man feebly, “yes.”
“I don’t want to hurry you, you know, neighbour,” said the dwarf, raising his voice; “but the sooner you can find a place to live, the better.”
“Surely,” said the old man. “The better for everybody. I will, certainly, we shall not stay here.”
“You see,” pursued Quilp after a short pause, “I have sold the things. Today’s Tuesday. When will the things be moved? This afternoon?”
“What about Friday morning?” returned the old man.
“Very good,” said the dwarf. “So be it, neighbour.”
“Good,” returned the old man. “I shall remember it.”
12
Thursday arrived. In a small dull yard below his window, there was a tree green and flourishing enough, it threw a rippling shadow on the white wall. The old man sat watching the shadows, until the sun went down; and when it was night, and the moon was slowly rising, he still sat in the same spot.
He besought Nelly to forgive him.
“Forgive you what?” said Nell. “Oh grandfather, what should I forgive?”
“All that is past, all that has come upon you, Nell, all that was done,” returned the old man.
“Do not talk so,” said the child. “Pray do not. Let us speak of something else.”
“Yes, yes, we will,” he rejoined. “Hush! We will not stay here. We will go far away from here.”
“Yes, let us go,” said the child earnestly. “Let us leave this place, and never turn back or think of it again. Let us wander barefoot through the world, rather than linger here.”
“We will,” answered the old man, “we will travel afoot through the fields and woods, and by the side of rivers, and trust ourselves to God in the places where He dwells. You and I together, Nell.”
“We will be happy,” cried the child. “We never can be here.”
“No,” rejoined the old man. “Let us steal away tomorrow morning early and softly, that we may not be seen or heard. Poor Nell! Your cheek is pale, and your eyes are weeping; but you will be well again, and merry too, when we are far away. Tomorrow morning, dear, we’ll turn our faces from this scene of sorrow, and be as free and happy as the birds.”
And then, the old man clasped his hands above her head, and said that from that time forth they would wander up and down together.
The child’s heart beat high with hope and confidence. She had no thought of hunger, or cold, or thirst, or suffering. The old man had slept, for some hours, in his bed, and she was busily engaged in preparing for their flight. There were a few articles of clothing for herself to carry, and a few for him; old garments; and a staff to support his feeble steps. But this was not all her task; for now she must visit the old rooms for the last time.
She sat down at the window where she had spent so many evenings. There were some trifles in her room that she would like to take away; but that was impossible.
The old man woke up. He wanted to leave the house immediately, and was soon ready. The child then took him by the hand, and they trod lightly and cautiously down the stairs. At last, they reached the passage on the ground-floor, where the snoring of Mr. Quilp and his legal friend sounded more terrible in their ears than the roars of lions.
They opened the door without noise, and passing into the street, stood still.
“Which way?” said the child.
The old man looked, irresolutely and helplessly, first at her, then to the right and left, then at her again, and shook his head. The child put her hand in his, and led him gently away.
Forth from the city went the two poor adventurers, wandering they knew not whither.
13
Dick Swiveller entered the shop and saw Daniel Quilp.
“You came for some purpose, I suppose,” said Quilp. “What is it you want?”
“I want to know how the old gentleman is,” rejoined Mr. Swiveller, “and to see Nell. I’m a friend of the family, sir, at least I’m the friend of one of the family, and that’s the same thing.”
“You’d better walk in then,” said the dwarf. “Go on, sir, go on.”
“You seem to make yourself at home here,” said Dick, who was unacquainted with Mr. Quilp’s authority.
“I am at home, young gentleman,” returned the dwarf.
Dick was pondering what these words might mean, and still more what the presence of Mr. Brass might mean, when Mrs. Quilp came downstairs, declaring that the rooms above were empty.
“Empty, you fool!” said the dwarf.
“I have been into every room, Quilp,” answered his trembling wife, “and there’s not a soul in any of them.”
Quilp turned to Mr. Brass.
“Indeed,” he said, “we knew that they’d go away today, but not that they’d go so early, or so quietly. But they have their reasons, they have their reasons.”
“Where did they go?” said the wondering Dick.
Swiveller was utterly aghast. The old man and all the money melted away.
“Well,” said Dick, “I suppose it’s of no use my staying here.”
“Not the least in the world,” rejoined the dwarf.
By this time, certain vans had arrived for the conveyance of the goods. The dwarf observed, that a boy was prying in at the outer door. It was Kit, and Mr. Quilp hailed him by his name.
“Come here, you sir,” said the dwarf. “Well, so your old master and young mistress have gone?”
“Where?” rejoined Kit, looking round.
“Do you mean to say you don’t know where?” answered Quilp sharply. “Where have they gone, eh?”
“I don’t know,” said Kit.
“Oh!” said the dwarf after a little consideration. “Then, I think they’ll come to you.”
“Do you think they will?” cried Kit eagerly.
“Why not?” returned the dwarf. “And when they do, let me know; do you hear? Let me know, and I’ll give you something. I want to do them a kindness, and I can’t do them a kindness unless I know where they are. You hear what I say?”
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The child trembled with a mingled sensation of hope and fear. The town was glad with morning light; the